Chapter 1
-Halt! State your business in the citadel.
Merlin looked at the guard and raised his eyebrows, realizing that he's never seen this one. More to the point, it seemed that the guard's never seen him which, in happier times, could have led to an impressive joke. Alas, the times were what they were and he really needed to get the news to Gwen. So he drew himself to his full height, slammed the Sidhe staff into the ground, lighting up the crystal on top of it, and stated:
-I am Merlin, Lord Caledonensis of the Northern Reaches, the Queen's sorcerer and the Emrys of the Wizards' Council. I am here with urgent news for Queen Guinevere regarding the Saxon threat from the former kingdom of Odin.
The guard's eyes opened wide in recognition and he shifted nervously, gripping his halberd so hard that the hands turned white.
-The... the Queen ordered that no one is to enter or leave the Citadel.
The warlock frowned, suddenly feeling somewhat uneasy.
-Surely that does not include those of the Round Table.
-I was told that no one is to enter.
The feeling of unease morphed into something more, something cold and ugly.
-I don't think I've seen you before. - Merlin's voice was deceptively calm.
-I-I am new to Camelot, Sire.
-And yet you are entrusted with the safety of the royal family?
-I...I...
-Get out of my way. - Merlin strode forward, pushing the guard aside with a brief flare of magic.
It was only his battle-honed reflexes that allowed him to block the halberd's blow with his staff, instinctively throwing the treacherous guard into the wall. Something cracked and Merlin doubted that it was the stone of the wall.
The false guard tried to rise, but his legs refused to obey, and as he shifted on the ground, blood trickled out the corner of his mouth.
-What is going on? - Merlin demanded.
The guard tried to spit at him, but choked on blood and started coughing.
-What is going on? - The warlock repeated himself. - Answer me!
The guard remained stubbornly silent and Merlin growled.
-I don't have time for this, hiersumaþ me! Obey me and answer my question!
-The queen... the weak queen... - The guard was forced to answer through gritted teeth, fighting every word, and Merlin felt his heart fall. So it was a plot against Gwen after all. No longer caring about the morality of his actions or the lasting effects of the spell upon the guard's mind, he cast again.
-Mod wæs cræftleas! Hiersumaþ me!Hiersumaþ me! Who are you? What are you doing here? Who else is working against the queen? What is the plan? Answer me!
The guard's pupil expanded, and the eyes went unfocused, showing him to be under the effect of the spell. When he spoke, his speech was rough from his injuries, but unimpeded by his mind and will, which were almost destroyed by the enchantment.
-I'm Gwrgi, son of Eliffer. Two months ago Lord Rhydderch... - Gwrgi coughed up some more of his blood and looked at it as though it were the most interesting thing in the United Kingdoms of Albion. - Lord Rhydderch of Alt Clut hired me brotha an' I along with a bunch of others. He told us all 'bout the weak queen in Camelot, an' said that if we helped him, when he's king, he'll make us lords. His people infiltrated the citadel over the last few years and one o' them slipped some kinda poison into the guards' supper in tha kitchen. Then a loyal guard opened tha gates an' I was told to guard it and let no one in.
-The Council of Kings would never support his claim. - Merlin barked. Alt Clut, the part where the Northern Reaches connect to the original Five Kingdoms. The North, damn it, the North! His North, the one he was entrusted with!
-Rhydderch said... - this time the guard's coughing fit lasted longer, - Rhydderch said that most o' tha Council already supports him, 'cause tha queen is not a noble an' has no heir. Tha Council would support third cousin of Queen Igraine with two male heirs.
Merlin's eyes darkened as he realized that that was a very likely outcome. More than once the members of the Coincil, united by Gwen's diplomacy, the skill of Camelot's knights and Merlin's sheer power, attempted to seize the power for themselves. More than one former king hoped to usurp Gwen's place and rule over the united Albion. Rhydderch was an idiot if he thought he could hold the power – without Gwen the Council would rip itself apart and Albion would be divided again, weak against the Saxon threat from the South.
Merlin straightened and ran toward the royal chambers.
-Idiot! - He growled at himself. -Idiot, idiot, idiot! - He saw another armed man in the corridors and threw him into the wall with bone-shattering force. It may have been one of the loyal guards, but the warlock was in no mood to ask questions and decipher loyalties. - Gwen told me it was a bad idea to leave Camelot for so long, but no, I was so certain that the main threat came from outside. I saw how uncomfortable the Lords of the Council were in my presence and thought I would help by leaving for a few months! Idiot!
As he rounded the corner, Merlin almost tripped over a body. A second glance revealed the pale face of Sir Leon, arms cradling his stomach, face contorted with pain, eyes glazed over in death. Not letting himself feel the loss of one of the few genuine friends he had left, one of the most loyal knights of the realm and the general of Albion's armies, Merlin ran on.
Percival's bulk meant that he succumbed to the poison slowly enough to see the usurpers enter the palace. No less that four traitors lied around him in puddles of blood, but even his strength was not enough. Judging by the lay of the body, his attackers took advantage of the fact that he was without armor and stuck a sword in his back.
Sir Cedfyl, Sir Maelgwn, Sir Erith, Sir Bran – as the warlock ran deeper into the citadel he saw more and more familiar faces among the fallen. The lack of blood as well as lack of enemy bodies showed that most of them succumbed to the poison among with the guards, whose faces, if not names, Merlin recognized. It took him a minute to realize that there were barely any servants among the dead and he barked a harsh laugh in realization. When did Gwen, when did he start to underestimate the staff to the extent that a traitor managed to replace most of them with his people, and they didn't even notice?
As he neared the royal chambers, he encountered more and more enemies that he took care of with nary a thought, forgoing incantations and merely slamming them into the walls or out the windows with kinetic blasts from his staff. Soon he could hear the sounds of clashing steel and raised voices, signifying that the struggle was still ongoing. With renewed determination and hope, he strode forward, bitterly regretting putting anti-teleportation wardstones under the castle.
The corridor leading to Gwen's rooms was covered in bodies, known and unknown alike, showing that someone realized what was happening and managed to rally the remaining defenders to the queen. Merlin burst into the room, a second later realizing that he stepped over Elyan. The queen's brother, it seemed, was dining with his sister and took the position in the narrowest part of the hall – the doorway itself, guarding Gwen until he succumbed to the sheer numbers.
-Rhydderch! - He roared, blasting aside the mercenaries. The Lord stood tall, his sword crossed with Gwen's, but stepped back to see both of his opponents upon hearing Merlin's call. Now, seeing his face, the warlock vaguely recalled him as one of the many he met upon receiving the Northern Reaches from Gwen, both as a reward and as the only one able to control the rougher northern people who respected nothing but power.
-Merlin. - He spat, his face contorted in fear and hate. Yet, Merlin couldn't help but smile in return. He got here in time.
-You're late. - Gwen said with a tired smile, tinted with grief and a hint of shock. She must have seen her brother die right in front of her once again, Merlin realized, not to mention that she wasn't as young as she once was and hasn't used a sword in quite a while. He once again cursed himself for not getting here sooner.
-My apologies, my queen. - He said shortly, not taking his eyes off the northern lord. - I got held up by some miscreants, but they would not trouble you anymore.
Rhydderch's face twisted as he realized the implications of Merlin's words.
-You think I am the only one who will fight for the throne? People see a weak queen that prefers peace and compromise to war and strength, a queen who prefers to ask instead of ordering and relies on others to fight her battles. They see a queen, who has no heir, a queen, who's death would bring turmoil to Albion, unless she's succeeded by a strong king.
-And you think you're more suited to the High Throne? - Gwen asked, her voice tinged by anger. Her eyes held barely hidden fury as shock started to wear off. - You come to my house and slaughter men royal to the Realm, and you think that makes you a worthy king?
-Certainly more worthy than a servant girl with no knowledge of how actual ruling works. - Rhydderch replied. - My father, Tutagual, was a King. A throne is my birthright.
-There's no way you could have brought a small army into the heart of Albion without support from someone among my trusted. - Gwen tilted her head in thought. - Tell me who helped you and your death will be quick and honorable.
The northern lord spat at her feet and Merlin moved a step forward. Rhydderch spun toward him and with a single move Gwen put a sword through his side. The Lord's eyes opened wide as the sword fell from his hands.
-Who's weak now? - The queen hissed in his ear and twisted the blade. Rhydderch fell with a dull thud.
Gwen dropped her sword, looking down at the body and despite the situation, Merlin smiled. It was a well-rehearsed move, though usually used in politics and not actual combat. Merlin would draw attention with a threat or a reminder of his power, and Gwen would gut the enemy argument just as they dismissed her for a puppet queen. It was highly effective.
-Merlin? My Queen?
Both of them turned around and Merlin smiled at the first good news he received since the day started.
-Sir Tristan? - Gwen asked, trying to pull on a smile, but not really succeeding. - What are you doing here?
After Arthur's death it took some time to track down the elusive smuggler, but the queen's new, slier policies in regards to law enforcement and the new employment of magic users for search-and-capture missions were highly successful. It took almost as long to persuade him to join the Knights of the Round Table, but both Gwen and Merlin always felt the effort spent was well worth it. Not only was he a top-notch swordsman, but he also had contacts that the Queen could never access herself. He was always the first to bring news of any potential uprisings, of attempts at takeovers by other monarchs, of secrets of the wealthy and the powerful. One could say that the entirety of Albion's espionage network was wholly his achievement.
-I came as soon as I got wind of the approaching forces, but it seems I was a little too late. - He nodded toward Rhydderch's body. - I got separated from your royal quarters by what seemed to be an endless string of armed men and not all of us can defeat enemies with nothing but a flash of their eyes. I'm glad you're safe, Your Majesty, and I'm sorry for your loss.
Tristan stuck his sword back in the sheath and came forth, embracing Gwen. For a moment Merlin thought that her gasp was due to surprise at Tristan's sudden empathic side or a barely hidden sob. Then the former smuggler released her and the queen fell down, her eyes wide and a dagger in between her ribs.
A dagger in between her ribs.
Merlin ran forth so quickly, he suspected he briefly slowed down time. How... When... What...
-Gwen!
-M-Merlin? - For a moment she sounded young, small and confused. - It hurts.
-I... - He choked on a sob, only now realizing that he was crying. - I know.
-Merlin? You can make it b-better, can't you? - Gwen's voice shook. - You always make it better.
-I... I... - Even had he the presence of the mind, he doubted he could have said anything. And what was there to say? Healing spells were never his strong suit, despite all the effort he put in after watching Arthur die in his arms, and even if they were, the wound was fatal. The only thing that could save her now was the power over life and death, which he never managed to summon again after Gaius and Numueh, or the Sidhe at the Lake of Avalon, miles and miles away, separated from him by his own blasted wardstones, inhibiting teleportation among other things.
With another choked sob, Merlin grasped her hand as though trying to physically hold her back from the Otherworld.
-Gwen, stay with me, stay with me, Gwen, please! - He begged. He knew he sounded pathetic and he didn't care. - Stay with me, please!
-You always make it better... - With a slight smile, she closed her eyes, her hand slipping from his.
The Queen of Albion was no more.